Riptide
by Vibedash
Summary: Years after high school, Haru gets into an accident. He loses everything, including himself. But who is truly suffering? MakoHaru
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, Kyoani does.

WARNING: blood mention, don't want to traumatize nobody

A/N : Enjoy.

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><p>Cold.<p>

Bright.

Haru didn't know whether he had consciously opened his eyes to see the IV drip looming before him, or if his eyes had already been open and had only just come into focus.

Cold. He was cold. Pricks of cold along his body. Like getting out of the tub and standing in front of a fan to dry, naked and shivering. Tiny needles spurted ice into his pores, the ice melting and sitting on top of his skin in microscopic droplets that left him nauseated and chilly.

Bright. It was too bright. Not bright like sitting in the warm sun. Bright like being trapped underground in a wet, dark cave with only a Duracell powered flashlight to guide your steps. The kind of unwelcome light a doctor flashed into your opened eyes as you sat in a state of undress on a wax papered counter.

A lurching sense of unease pulsed through him, as though he had fallen out of bed.

Something tugged at his forearms, his shoulders, his shins and thighs. His neck. His face. His… head…

Pain. Ah, it burns! Burns!

Panicked, he jolted awake, screaming at the searing in his flesh like a prey animal. He felt as though hot grease were being splashed onto his limbs and face.

He fought the fog in his hazy mind and began thrashing about to push away the horrible pain. He was outraged when he realized he was being clamped down upon by many strong hands.

He craned his neck down, despite the pain biting down on his spine like a snake's locking fangs. Ruby red. He saw colors. Were those _his_ legs? The skin was split like a woodcutter's axe had carved them. His hands looked like they had been scrubbed with shattered glass, pieces jutting out from his white arms.

Dizzied, he faintly registered another pair of hands on his head, settling him down upon a canvas. Was he in a bed? Was he laying down? His eyes strained to look to his left, vision swimming as if he were opening his eyes under the water. A mouth, babbling words, words, words. A chorus of mouths, bleeding words like he bled out of his body.

"—alright. You've been in an—"

"-san, do you know any next of kin he may—"

"—eed another transfusion over here!"

"Hold still!"

"_Haru_!"

_Haru_.

The voice was pleading, afraid, worried. The voice needed him. He had to be okay, had to get up, had to comfort it immediately.

"Ma… ko…" he rasped, feeling sluggish. His tongue was thick and ignored his desperation.

He was weak. Too weak. Everything hurt. He had to sleep. Sleep and wake up to find that everything was fine, and just as it was before.

Yes…

He would go to sleep and wake up, and it would be okay. He felt himself sink into the crash cart, sink like he was transforming into water and melting into the threadbare cotton cushion, spilling over the sides and drizzling onto the floor behind the rushing nurses and doctors… behind Makoto.

As he drifted away, a glass bottle filled with memories upon the gleaming sea, he felt the great looming maw of a dark creature open wide and catch him, dragging him down in the abyss as silently as it had come.

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><p>AN: This is my first fic I actually have planned out in a string of uncompleted, sad, abandoned accounts over the years. Therefore, any comment, negative or positive, would be super helpful. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Free!, Kyoani does.

A/N : Here we go, gettin' into it.

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><p>The first thought that occurred to Haru was that he was late for school.<p>

Outside the birds were silent. Early morning light peeked through his eyelids. His alarm clock hadn't gone off, but he had definitely missed the train. Why hadn't Makoto woken him up?

Steadily approaching consciousness, his mind was lethargic.

Everything felt… bruised. Like a thick slab of stone had been balanced carefully atop his body while he slept, crushing him overnight. Eyes remaining closed, he furrowed his brows and flexed his calf muscles, expecting a satisfying coiling and release of tension.

Instead, an unpleasant shock of pain rolled down his legs. Soreness clung heavily to his bones as he stretched his fingers and curled his toes.

Odd. He must have slept the wrong way, or maybe he swam too hard at practice last night.

He began to faintly register an uncomfortable warmth at his side, and briefly considered kicking off the sheets.

The sheets that were… scratchy.

Haru didn't think he owned sheets this rough, and was surprised he hadn't noticed beforehand.

An unfamiliar coolness dusted the air with sweet particles, and the smell of rubbing alcohol and sickness pervaded his senses.

Something felt off.

Haru forced his eyes to slit open, blurry and sensitive like a wet newborn chick's.

The first thing he noticed was a jarring shade of rotten peach. The flamboyant color belonged to a vinyl curtain, surrounding where he lay on the track of a glossy white rail.

That curtain was absolutely not in any part of his room. In fact, Haru would be offended if it were found anywhere near his house.

Neck creaking like cracked ice, he turned to understand the peculiar shapes in his peripheral vision.

A screen like a black void jumped with a scribbling of neon, informing him of his heart rate in flashing numbers. Plastic tubes jutted out from a rack of labelled and bagged fluids like some deep sea jellyfish, winding and twisting until they crept under the scratchy sheets that were now most certainly not Haru's.

The sheets belonged to a hospital bed. He was... in a hospital?

Unsettled by the revelation, he started when he felt the forgotten warmth at his other side shift, head swiveling over to look further upon the disturbance.

Messy hair. Hair like freshly turned spring soil. And a cheek and nose, tucked into a pair of sunned, folded arms.

Tachibana lay just past the reach of Haru's round fingertips, slumped over his bed with a quiet, lumbering presence. He sat in a metal chair, the predominantly beam and pipe composition of the seat a bit too small for his size. Had he always been this big? He looked different, somehow.

Uneasy, Haru realized that, for just an instant, the person before him had not been his familiar Makoto. Rather, it had been a more youthful, less gray doppelganger of Makoto's father.

A soft hum thrummed through the sleeping Tachibana's bent torso, a pitch lower than Haru remembered, as he turned, eyes roving underneath his thin, closed lids. A heavy fist unfurled, thick fingers ghosting along the edge of Haru's thigh and resting there.

That's when Haru saw it. A flash of gold, just above his dimpled knuckles.

A ring. On the third finger of his hand, there was a ring, simple and undecorated.

It was a wedding band.

Haru began to panic.

This wasn't his Makoto.

His Makoto was not married. Why then, did his face look so alike (more sharp, perhaps) and his voice (albeit noticeably lower) carry the same tone?

They were the same, but then, not the same at all.

Dread squeezed the last of the calm from Haru, and he scrabbled to right his confusion.

"Makoto," he blurted urgently, anxious. Haru frightened himself further when the voice that came out of himself was a stranger's, rushed and mature. His fingers reached out to brush Tachibana's arm, his wrist skinny and pale.

He heard Tachibana suck in a breath and jump. The head at his side wavered, then rose, body awakening behind it like a thawing oak.

Haru quickly mewled another weak, "Makoto," needing reassurance.

Tachibana's eyes snapped to attention, the normally comforting green wild in panic. When they focused blearily on Haru, Tachibana called his name with the forceful breath of wind gusting through leaves.

"_Haru_!"

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><p>AN : Hey, maybe Tachibana'll get a different line next chapter. Hehe


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing, Kyoani does

A:N / yo sorry i'm late

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><p>Tachibana's arms felt alien, yet warm.<p>

Haru had never been one for touching. Human contact made him shudder with disgust. The mild revulsion had probably come from the conditioned neglect his parents had left him with – years of it.

The first time Tachibana had casually given him a friendly hug, merely a couple of days after they had first met at the Iwatobi swim club, he had been so tense and uncomfortable during and after the fiasco that even Tachibana was embarrassed. They had both been as silent as four in the morning on a Sunday the entire walk home.

Since the incident back in elementary school, Haru could count the instances that Makoto had forced his way into Haru's personal space on a single hand. Obviously, Tachibana had taken measures on Haru's behalf to carefully respect his personal borders.

Therefore, when Tachibana had called his name, following with an immediate, almost crushing embrace, Haru was at a loss for words. Tachibana had answered to his own name, but he certainly wasn't acting like the usual Tachibana.

Again, Haru was struck with the unusual feeling Tachibana was somehow _bigger_ than he normally should be. His growth spurt in middle school had left the rest of the boys staggering, but this Tachibana was less awkward teenage angles and more filled out, like an adult.

As Haru chewed through the thought, Tachibana buried his face into Haru's bony shoulder and huffed, staying still for a good few seconds. Haru fought off the urge to push Tachibana away, but he was at his boundary and his left arm was hooked up to a rack of IV's anyway. Too close. Haru swallowed hard and squirmed, his body sore.

After what felt like a lap down the 50-meter lane, Tachibana finally gave Haru's body a single, comforting squeeze and pushed away from his space. Haru stared at him, unable to understand the dread tingling through his veins but peculiarly soothed for the moment. Tachibana's hand remained heavily upon his forearm.

"Thank goodness. Thank goodness," he breathed, like a chant. The green of his eyes was dingy, and his face was tired like bleached grass. He was looking right at Haru. For some reason, it made him want to run away. Unable to restrain his worry, he interrupted the silence Tachibana's unbelievable behavior had brought upon him.

"Makoto." His voice, once more, intimidated him. When he tried again, it was quieter.

"What happened? Why…?" _Why are you so different? Why do I feel so… off?_

Tachibana's eyes widened in understanding. He nodded almost enthusiastically, the words bursting from him as though he were a broken dam.

"Haru, we're in the hospital. How do you feel? Are you okay? Do you remember anything that happened? I should go get the nurse…" he babbled frantically, sweeping Haru with his gaze and pointedly eyeing the door.

Haru didn't realize his fist was gripping the sheets until he felt his overgrown fingernails begin to dig into his palm. His other, immobilized hand remained hidden.

"Makoto, calm down. What's going on?"

Tachibana paused and glanced up, his frenzy quelling. He sighed and muttered an apology, deflating.

"Oh. Yeah. I'm sorry, Haru. I was just…" Tachibana stopped. A moment of discomfort creased his brow. He looked down at his open hands as though they weren't his own, lost. Haru waited, vaguely unsettled by the low timbre of his voice.

Tachibana's shoulders were slumped as he leaned over and gently held Haru's wrist, thumb pad pressing into his spidery blue veins. His other hands remained in his lap. The intimacy of the contact startled Haru, but Tachibana loomed into his space and gravely scrutinized him.

"There was an accident. You were in an accident." The information surprised Haru more than he felt it should have. Still, his immediate questions were unanswered.

Haru shot back, "When?"

Tachibana sighed. "Three weeks ago. A car hit you when you were walking home from the station. It dragged you two whole blocks… They said it was a hit and run…"

His voice cracked. Tachibana dipped his head down, but quickly raised it back up, blinking hard. Haru was taken aback by his concern.

"Haru, I'm so, so sorry. I should've been there." Tachibana's face was the picture of regret. His grip on Haru's wrist was almost painful. Haru's hand twitched in complaint, and he looked down at it.

"It was my fault. I knew it was dangerous over there, when it gets dark. I should've made you drive back with me from work, in the car. You were only a few streets away, I should've—"

"It's fine." Haru cut in reassuringly. His hand was turning white. Tachibana noticed and let go, allowing blood flow back into Haru's vessels. Tachibana's expression was pained.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Makoto. Am I… okay?"

To Haru's relief, Makoto nodded.

"The doctors said you didn't break any bones or anything, but you were pretty… messed up." Tachibana grew softer, grimacing with faint horror at the thought. He stiffened and curled his fingers uncomfortably. Haru could see his mind floundering. Then, he focused on Haru once more, with a sudden urgency.

"They said to go get a nurse right when you woke up. They wanted to check on a couple of things, since you hit your head pretty hard…" Again, Tachibana's face twisted, but then he continued.

"I think you'll be okay, but I should go get her. Can you – can you wait here for just a sec?"

Mutely, Haru bowed his head in affirmation. However, when Tachibana didn't budge and merely gazed at him, unmoving. Haru stared back with a misunderstanding frown.

Tachibana flashed him a tiny, weary smile and leaned forward, bracing his arm behind Haru's reluctant head. For a brief second, Haru thought Tachibana was reaching for something behind him.

"I'm – really glad you're okay, Haru." He was so close to Haru's ear that he could feel the vibrations of his words. His fine hair tickled his jaw line. _What is he_…?

The thought froze into an ice floe when lips carefully pecked at his cheek. They were soft and unwelcome.

Haru dimly registered Tachibana pulling back and making his way to the entrance of the room, his body numb with shock.

"I'll be back soon, I promise," Tachibana called, leaning out of the door frame.

Haru merely watched him with wide eyes. The spot where Tachibana had kissed him felt as though it had been branded with a hot iron.

With one last wave, the wedding band ominously flashed into Haru's vision once more. Then, the room was silent.

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><p>A:N  ayyy want me to update more? think i have some issues i gotta address? send all your worries to me via comment and i'll get back 2 ya


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